The Rancher Next Door

It was more than that, Rebecca knew.

Trevor had a way with animals. An immense capacity for hard, physical, down and dirty work. And a need to achieve as deep as her own.

From what she’d seen thus far, Vince seemed driven by the outward trappings of success. Instead of being content with one ranch in one area of the state, he wanted three. He managed instead of ranched. And he already had his eye on the local social scene.

“Vince wanted to be the top student in our department. He was upset when he could not best me on exams and labs.”

Okay. “And that’s it?”

“Obviously, you’ve never had anyone continually competing with you. It grates on a person.”

She studied him. “You think that’s why Vince Owen bought a ranch so close to yours, don’t you?”

Trevor clenched his fists in frustration. “It’s not just this ranch. He dogs me all the time. I was asked to be a speaker on a ranching seminar last year. He found out and unbeknownst to me, got on the program, too. He found out what kinds of cattle I was breeding, started breeding that type, too. Bought a herd of heifers out from under me. Bought that land on the other side of you—the Circle Y—out from under me. I had offered the asking price to the previous owner, when he was ready to sell. Next thing I know he has accepted an offer from an intermediary for ten percent more. When I heard it, I had a sinking feeling who the new owner might be, but I didn’t know for sure until Vince Owen walked into the feed store yesterday morning.”

She glanced sideways at him. “Wow. No wonder you’re annoyed.”

Trevor dropped his hands to his sides and shrugged. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I won’t. I knew right off he wasn’t the kind of guy I wanted to have as a friend.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t use you to get to me,” Trevor warned.

“To use me, he’d have to get me to give him something. I have no intention of doing that. Now or ever,” Rebecca said flatly. “I do want to thank you, though, for helping me go get Blue Mist this morning.”

“No problem. I haven’t been around alpacas since I was in college. I had forgotten how beautiful they are.”

Interesting he would say that, Rebecca thought. It mirrored her feelings exactly.

As if realizing she was being talked about, Blue Mist ambled toward them.

The fawn-colored animal stood at almost five feet. With her gentle demeanor, long, sloping neck, sturdy giraffe-shaped body and dense, soft and fluffy wool coat, she lent a pastoral quality to The Primrose. Her cute oblong face and intelligent dark eyes only added to her appeal. Rebecca stroked her wool.

“How much do you know about shearing?” she asked Trevor.

He grinned. “I haven’t tried it on my cattle.”

“I’m going to have to do that once I get the entire herd on the property. It has to be done before it gets too hot.”

He rubbed Blue Mist behind the ears. “You shear them once a year?”

Rebecca nodded. “In the spring.”

Trevor dropped his hand as Blue Mist moved away once again. “One question. How did an alpaca with light brown wool get the name Blue Mist?”

Rebecca had been wondering if and when Trevor would ask that. “She was born on a foggy morning, and when the owners first saw her, she was rising up out of a blue mist.”

“Ah.”

“It’s a good name, I think. Prophetic.”

“You mean romantic,” he teased.

Rebecca couldn’t afford to be thought of as anything less than business-minded. “I mean it spoke to me when I heard it. And when I met her, saw how gentle she was, and found out she was already with cria, I knew she was the start of my herd.”

“Speaking of which…you and I need to talk about the fence around your pastures.”

“Why?” Rebecca braced for news that would cost her more than she’d already spent. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked in trepidation.

“The wood is breaking down in places.”

She cocked her head. “You had your cattle in there.”

His lips twitched. “Circumstances are different now. We’re going to have my thousand-pound steers on my side of that fence, and your one-hundred-pound alpacas on the other.”

“Are you saying your cattle are going to bother my alpacas?”

His hazel eyes glimmered seriously. “Not under normal circumstances, but we have to be prepared for the unusual.”

She wished she could say he was joking. “Such as?”

“Predators getting in the pasture with your alpacas.”

She would have laughed at the statistical absurdity of the statement had it not been for his warning expression. “Are you trying to give me a hard time?”

“I’m trying to explain to you that even a stray cat or dog could spook your alpacas, and if they get spooked and start running and upset my cattle, we could have a stampede on our hands.”

So it was back to the alpacas and cattle don’t mix theory of ranching. An old wives’ tale if she’d ever heard one. She planted her hands on her hips. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

He let his gaze drift slowly over her before returning to her face. He leaned down so they were practically nose to nose. “And I think you need mesh fence on the inside of the split rail borders, for safety’s sake.”

She dropped her hands and stepped back. “I can’t afford to do that right now, Trevor.”

He shrugged, as unconcerned with the financial details of the situation as she was obsessed. “Then I’ll help you out.”

His matter-of-fact offer sounded like a mixture of pity and charity. If she accepted either, word would get out, and she would never have the other ranchers’ respect.

Rebecca shook her head, promising, “I’ll get to it as soon as I can, but until then we’re just going to have to make do.”

Silence ticked out between them. “You sure that’s a chance you want to take?” he asked eventually.

What choice did she have? She was on such a tight budget as it was, at least for the next month or so, the slightest catastrophe could catapult her into bankruptcy. Once she’d attracted outside investors, though, her situation would ease quickly.

Gulping around the anxiety rising up within her, she tried to smooth things over while still stubbornly holding her ground. “Look, Trevor, the rest of the herd won’t be here for another ten days or so. As soon as I get past the Open House I’m having for potential investors, a week from Sunday,” and get past the balloon payment that is due on my operating loan, “I’ll take care of the fence. I promise.”

Trevor looked like he wanted to continue debating her, but when he finally spoke it was only to ask, “Where are you going to house your herd at night?”

“In the stalls in the barn. Which reminds me. I’ve really got to get cleaning if I want Blue Mist and that cria she’s carrying to have somewhere to sleep tonight.”

Trevor took the hint, and left to tend to his own herd.

Three hours later, Rebecca had scrubbed down the central cement corridor and two of the ten wooden-sided stalls. She was filthy from head to toe, and bone-tired to boot. Deciding to check on Blue Mist, she walked out to the pasture, and stopped in her tracks at what she saw.

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